Rigeletto
by obsessionpersonified
Summary: Aunt Meg, do you believe Rigeletto is real, is out their, waiting for a kiss so he may return to his One True Love and Live Happily Ever After?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, while cleaning out my old computer, I found this. I wrote it a little while ago, and actually think its a good idea. IÆd need some info though, on your opinion. I have this and another chapter, and if you think its a good idea, review or email me and tell me so. If not, then I wont bother. I have a lot on my plate, and writing a story no one wants will just... infuriate me.

Love and hellfiery days of doomishness

Hollilia

Prologue

_Once upon a time, a long time ago, their lived a beautiful Princess. After her conception, it is said that one hundred fairies of the Relms came to bestow gifts upon her. So it was no surpirse, that when she was born, she was blessed with extrodinary beauty and the sweetest and most innocent disposition. The Young Princess the most gorgeous thick curly hair, the color of beautiful mahogany. Her eyes were the brightest blue eye dreamed up by nature. Her skin was pale, luminescent and silky, iridescent in its entirety. She was tall, but not too tall, with a form that would make the goddesses weep in envy. _

_The girl was dubbed Christine Daae at birth, but most only knew her as My lady. From the age of six, adorable in her christening gown, she was fought over by the most courageous and handsome of princes, by the powerful, by the rich, and neigh kidnapped every other week. She escaped from these adventures within a few hours completly unharmed and charmingly rosy cheeked. Her innocence was so that no man could bear to bring himself to sully it. _

_Then, from far in the east came a man, rumored to have descended directly from the Gods. Dark of hair, resplendent in build, aristocratic in stature and well-looked upon by his peers. All traits shared with at least a few men of the court, but most admirable, was his determination. Most awe-inspiring, was his voice. A voice of angels, of sweet seraphims and the choirs of heaven. Lady Christine was naught but twelve at the time, and the handsome prince nearing his twenties. The moment he saw her he was filled with a desire to have her. And when she began to sing for the celebration, he knew she was meant for him. _

_Unfortunately, at that time his father, a poweful and just king of a mighty land, was called to war. As a good son should he left the young Princess and went to help his father. _

_It was then disaster struck. _

_In the midst of their victory, The Prince's father was struck down and he came at once to his rescue. Holding his dying father in his embrace on the bloody battlefield, he didn't see the soldier, nor did he see the enchanted blade until it was too late. His enemies son was a sorcerer and with his last dying breath he heafted the sword above the Prince's head. With one slash, the Magic set in. _

The Prince was cursed. Half his handsome face, once so alive with hope and arrogance and youth, was savagely marred. Red blistered skin, touched by the hells of Fire itself, burned by the inferno in the Pit. He cried out once, and never again.

As the years past, the Prince became broody, and he allowed the hideousness of his face to pollute his soul. He spent years delving into dark arts, waging war after war. It seemed as if he was intent upon his own distruction. But the curse would not give him such an easy release as death, and he found no peace in the bloodlust, no companionship in the scarred wounds of others and their widows and orphans. Finally he gave up this misadventure, returning to his home to live out the rest of his existence.

The Princess, now a blossoming eighteen, forgetting the handsome prince of her youth was to be engaged to another. Her beauty was a legend, her innocence unmatched. It was at this time that Our Dark Prince heard of her egagment. He sent for her and, terrified of the anger of such a beast, her father willingly sent her. No tears could persuade the Princesses father to change his mind, no threats or pleading could desist him.

Dressed in her best and prepared to meet her doom, the Young beauty stepped inside the forbidding keep of the Monstrous Prince. What she found there was not at all what she expected at all. Angelic music drifted all around, echoed through the nearly empty abode. A voice beyond all description seduced and bewitched her to the tallest tower in the keep.

The Prince knew the Innocence of his victim, and knew nothing would change her mind if she saw his face immediently. He planned on befriending her, seducing her, persuading her to his favor, then revealing his monstrocity.

For, you see, this was the loophole to the sorcerer King's curse. If he could get pure innocence to love him, to kiss the side of his face without fear, of their own free will, then the wretched curse would be lifted.

So, everyday she lived in his castle, pampered by invisible maids, butlers and general servants would attend her every whim. She dressed in the finest of silks, draped in gorgeous jewels and every night her mysterious Captor would sing for her and ask her to sing for him.

It came the day that Our Prince believed Christine was ready. He laid out the entire day, planned an intimate seduction. She couldn't possibly hate him now, they'd grown too close. That very night he approached her in her bedchambers and after proclaiming his everlasting love, he showed her his face.

The scream ripped through the castle all the way to the Winter Lands.

Terrified, Christine fled from him, out the door and through the woods. The poor Beauty just could not take it, could not see beneath his ugliness at all. That night The Dark Prince was in a fury, and the music that poured out of his halls will haunt the villagers nightmares forever.

All was not over and done with, for no matter how her reaction, He still lived and remained cursed. Without the innocence Kiss he could not become normal again and that nagging fact festered like a wound. He began his travels, searching every town, every small hollow for something to stop him. Something to either kill him or heal him, he didn't care. But something.

"-and They say even now Rigeletto wanders the earth, Darkened by terrible magic, and haunted by the face of the only woman he ever loved, searching for a way to end the curse." Meg finished in a true story-teller's voice. She gently closed the old book and set it in her lap. The three triplets eyes were wide, their blankets bunched around their waists.

"Aunt Meg, do you believe Rigeletto is real, is out their, waiting for a kiss so he may return to his One True Love and Live Happily Ever After?" The blonde one asked eagerly, a blush heightening her cheeks. The other two looked at Meg, similar blushes staining their cheeks.

Meg snorted and tossed the red-bound book behind her.

"Horse-shit."


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all! Miss me? Well, I recently got inspired listening to the missing song from PotO, and found this little nest of vipers directly underfoot when I did. I used the Book Ballet Steps for the movements, but if you don't understand them, its okay. I got nifty pictures to understand with. Just imagine a pretty dance. For this story I began thinking of Rigeletto, one of my favorite movies, and I decided to mix a few things together, so just to be safe...

Disclaimer; I don't own Rigeletto, Beauty and the Beast, Phantom of the Opera or any other thing that seems copy-righted in this fiction.

Quote of the day: 'If you find something you love, set it free; if it doesn't come back, hunt it down and set it on fire!'

"Meg...Meeeeeeeeeg..." The voice whispered sweetly, almost too innocently .

Then

"MEGERA!"

"Ah!" The lithe blonde slumbering peacefully leapt up, eyes wide and chest heaving. There were a few giggles and three little mops of curls dashed from the attic. Meg caught her breath and glared at the trespassers trail. It was the crack of dawn, the usual weekend time she had to awaken.

But that didn't mean a whit when the cry to wake up came from three little girls whose combined ages didn't reach her own age.

Meg scowled, and then saved vengeance for later. Preferably after breakfast. Still wearing the woke-up-way-too-early-for-war scowl she lifted her body from bed and crossed to the full-length vanity mirror. Meg easily slipped on her maid's outfit, then glanced at herself in the mirror.

Long, hip length hair still an infantile golden-white blonde. She had hoped for a deep auburn, or brunette color when she was younger, because almost everyone knew your hair darkened with age. Just her luck that she was the exception that proved the rule. Pretty, even features she supposed, with wide, innocent-looking gray eyes. Then came the bane of her life. Her bust was bigger than a married woman's AFTER childbirth. The large pert breast gained her nothing but jeers when she was younger and tasteless jokes, inuendo, and rude proposals now. Meg also had another trial young woman didn't usually find themselves in. Meg was tanned. Her body was slightly more golden, but next to lily-white ladies she looked just as she was. A country-bred farm girl. Her body was slightly more curvy 'round the waste than strictly fashionable, but she was a growing girl and she liked the fact that she wasn't a skeleton of famine. She was also shorter than other girls by at least four inches, measuring a mere five foot one and a half thankyouverymuch.

The maid's outfit was typical. A deep brown wool that fell to mid-calf and flared slightly, with an apron around her waist, a high-boat neckline, and sleeves that ended around her elbow. A white underskirt showed the tinniest bit, and a thin, expensive cotton shift hid her soft skin from the ravages of itchy-wool. knee-high stockings, and slightly high-heeled brown leather boots, her only consent to fashion. But only because the delivered an eye-watering kick to improper advances.

Meg trudged down the stairs, well, to her it was trudging. To us it was more like tip-toeing, but its all the same right? As soon as she reached the foyer, she caught a glimpse at the triplets at the long table. Sitting innocent as angels...but only because their mother was two feet away, reading through a novel.

Most likely 'How to stick that rod further up your-'

"Megera. Its about time. Pancakes, sausage, eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice and coffee, right away" Madam Giry Commanded.

"Yes Ma'am." Meg said meekly and dropped a quick curtsy. As she made the breakfast, she thought on the esteemed Madam.

Around forty-three, Madam Giry was a stern mistress. She took it on as a responsibility early on for any orphans, and so, in this great big house, over ten of the residents were said orphans. She taught them well, and turned them into 'Respectable Members of Society'.

A.K.A. Maids.

Almost every household in Alcea A/N Pronounced AL-SEE-A Creek had on of Giry's Girls. They were taught to cook, clean marvelously, sew, darn, make clothing, garden, and even sing, play instruments and oddly enough, Ballet. Being a former Mistress of the Barre it wasn't such a shock for Madam Giry to teach, but Orphans, who would only be maids? The proposition was scandalous to the town. But Madam Giry did things her own way and that was that.

Meg plated the bacon and moved onto the sausage when a knock came at the door. Confident Marie would get it, she only turned her attentions back to the meal. Dimly, she heard conversation, but ignored it in favor of not burning the eggs and getting a lashing. Finally the meal was done and she put the steaming dishes on a tray and wheeled them into the breakfast room where Madam Giry sat across from-

Oh good lord, An Indian!

He wore a saffron-colored turban, and eastern clothes, with a small beard and such dark skin that it made Meg look like a pure-skinned dove.

"Beg your pardon Madam. Didn't mean to intrude." She managed past her amazement.

"Well don't just stand there gawking. Serve!" Madam Giry snapped. Eyes lowered and cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she moved around the table and served the three little ones, then Madam Giry and then the Stranger. Their eyes met and she silently apologized with hers. He smiled and dipped his head in understanding. Thus relieved, she quickly hustled away through the kitchen door.

Later, sitting in the main attic room with six other maids, Marie confessed she had listened in and it was gloriously scandalous. Meg rolled her eyes but listened anyway.

"The Persian, because that is what he insists on being called, told Madam he wished to get a maid. His Master, a certain Erik had purchased Reuani Manor and needs help to clean." Marie said excitedly.

"Oh! I wonder if he's handsome!" One girl got out among the screeching. Marie's eyes brightened almost evilly.

"Oh no, you see, there's the juicy part. Madam made sure to explain no 'Hanky-panky' with her girls and he laughed and explained to her that his master was horribly scarred from an accident, and that whatever girl he got must be smart enough to listen to orders explicitly, as his Master doesn't like to be disturbed. Madam, of course, said we were all evenly discreet and what kind of maid did he have in mind?" Marie paused dramatically before flinging out a hand to point directly at Meg. "He said he wanted You."

"The Persian?" Meg asked incredulously (That's ridiculously hard to spell)

"No, no. The Master!" The room erupted into screeches, and Meg leant back, wide-eyed. When the giggling gaggle of Girls quieted, Marie went on to embellish the story, but Meg didn't listen any more.

What would a scarred aristocrat with oodles of money want with her? She got shivers up her spine just from thinking about it, and strived to keep it out of her mind. That night her dreams were filled with demons stealing her from her bed. The next morning was just like any other day, and with no odd response from Madam, Meg forgot about the incident and went along with her chores. it was about midday when she noticed on the girls were missing. Bringing it up with Madam Giry, the reply shocked her.

"She's on assignment in the Reuani Manor. Don't worry about it." And a crisp dismissive gesture.

Her mind was only half on her chores when she came back to her room. Folding the clothes she thought about all the scars she could think of seeing and reading about. Making the beds was spent on envisioning broody aristocrats. Scrubbing the floors was daydreaming about Persians. Making dinner was spent imaging the entire package. Scarred, broody aristocrat with a Persian man-servant. It was around five when she finished and had the rest of the day to herself.

Meg didn't know about the rest of the girls but to her ballet was one thing that made Madam Giry all the more powerful. With flimsy, drapey costumes and the right steps you could become an abandoned lover, a swan bride, Under a spell, a bird, a fish, or any other thing you might desire. The moved were graceful, beautiful and so descriptive. If life was perfect, there would be nothing but a wide open floor and Ballet slippers.

After retrieving her dancing gear, she did her regular stretches. She practiced Grand Battement, a fondu and a fouette of adage before actually beginning. She began a slow pirouette in arabesque, spinning slowly whilst raising graceful arms, adding a raised leg for effect. The decidedly romantic move relaxed her even more and she flew from this into the more steppy-er pas de chat, or step of the cat. A light, fast, snappy movement composed of a high jump with one leg, adding a second mid-air and landing on the opposite, with turned out feet. feeling energized she tried a barrel turn, a mostly male oriented move, but so energetic! Where each curving jump is followed by a quick turn on the ground which incorporates the landing of the previous jump and take off into the next jump with barely a change of feet.

Perspiring heavily, Meg rested, only to do her favorite and final move. Unusually accompanied by a man, it was the wicked Odile from Swan lake trying to seduce the Prince. By leaping teasingly away in a grand jete en tournant, ending by sinking in to mock submission on the floor in fully swan stance.

Meg smiled happily. That was the first time she'd every done it perfectly before. It was very late now, and she didn't even have time to change before sinking into exgaughstion on her small bed in the attic.

In Reuni Manor

A gigantic great Organ, sinfully black, dominated the small room. A man sat hunched over the ivory keys, strong lean hands playing over it, coaxing sweetly seductive sounds out of the massive beast. The hypnotic music played through-out the house, down the street and into the town, reaching the young girl of eighteen in her bed. Her forehead frowned in concentration, blonde locks splayed over her pillow. With barely a pause in his notes, the beat thrummed louder, stronger, faster, as if demons were speeding his hands.

The music bent and twisted becoming wild and untamed and taking the young girl with them. Down past the earth and bone and deep into hell where sinners burned unmercifully for their heinous crimes. Meg tossed in bed, trying to rise from the grips of the terrible nightmare, but the music again shifted to something different.

Softer now, still intense, like something frightening was around the corner but you didn't know which one. Meg found herself in a corridor in her tutu, tights, and ballet slippers. She was drawn against her will to the end door, her fingers on the knob while her mind tried to stop her body's reaction. The knob twisted and the wooden door creaked open. There, across the room was a man, bent over a gigantic piano with pipes sticking out of it.

She was across the room before she knew it, fingers lightly grazing his shoulder. He didn't pause, but one hand reached back and pulled her closer, lifting her physically to straddle his hard muscled thighs. Her eyes closed as he gently grazed her lips with his, before tilting his head side-ways and moving them against hers. Meg gave into the sensuality of the moment, a breathless gasp opening her mouth to his invasion. He swiped his tongue in, battling against hers in the most wicked dual, his fingers digging themselves into her hips. Innocent she was, but naive she was not. This was what all those rude men offered, but none could possibly be like this, this passion, this possession this... all-consuming need that raced like wild-fire in her veins.

He pressed her closer, enjoying her gasp at the contact, never loosing the kiss. His nimble, knowledgeable fingers found their way beneath the tutu, tracing a torturous path up her thigh, teasing the soft, responsive flesh there. His fingers were daring, slipping closer-

-when the door creaked open. Even with the music still thrumming in her ears and her own pulse throbbing pounding at every pulse point she heard it. Her eyes watched as the door opened, terrified that it might be the monster that stalked her in the corridor-

-To find Marie looking in, a fascination on her face. When the pianist looked in her direction her face paled, and with a scream of fright she fainted. Meg, eyes wide, met his gaze.

And found a bone-white half-mask staring back at her.

Meg jumped, accidentally hitting several keys and letting out a god-awful noise from the organ. The sound must have woken her up, because she sat up abruptly, covered in sweat and breathing harshly. She calmed, and attributed the dream to the late-night ballet. She removed the tutu and got into a nightgown, but didn't sleep at all until morning.

While across town a formal suited man in an opera cloak lifted the prone form of a maid from his door-jam, and brought her to the bleary-looking Persian a few feet away.

"Don't come back without her this time my friend. Or I may just have to kill the next one.

Chapter Fin

A/N- Of course I'll marry you Ayezur. Provided your loaded and look good. J/K I LOVE YOU TOO! Your review inspired me! I wrote the whole first chapter of another story and edited this one on your juice alone! (Watch out K-Chan. Your place is being nudged over a bit by this lovely reviewer.)

I LOVE REVIEWS! THEY MAKE THE JUICES FLOW!

(Man, I have Outtakes, Rigeletto, and MEg-a-slut to work on. I NEED SLEEP! DAMN YOU MUSE!)


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